Seeking help against intimate partner violence in lesbian and queer relationships
This chapter explores the concept of bioprecarity in the context of intimate partner violence (IPV) in LBTQ relationships by focusing on help-seeking as crossing encounters. Judith Butler (2004: 44) discusses the body as a site of human vulnerability, emphasizing that ‘this vulnerability is always articulated differently, that it cannot be properly thought of outside a differentiated field of power and, specifically, the differential operation of norms of recognition’. Eve Sedgwick (1990: 71) describes the invisibility sustaining the figure of the closet as the defining structure of gay oppression. Following this line of thought, Beverly Skeggs and Leslie Moran (2014: 5) address the need to produce ‘new visibilities’ claims for protection against violence. Drawing on these theorizations and on original empirical data, in this chapter I analyse the concept of help-seeking as crossing encounters of intimacy, not only in the sense of the private–public realms, but also regarding community and cultural boundaries, as the embodied LBTQ victim-survivor transgresses the cultural perceptions of victimhood when meeting help providers in an institutional context.
This study investigates contemporary Chinese Underworld traditions in Singapore and Malaysia, where the veneration of Hell deities is particularly popular. Highlighting the Taoist and Buddhist cosmologies on which present-day beliefs and practices are based, the book provides unique insights into the lived tradition, taking alterity seriously and interpreting practitioners’ beliefs without bias. First-person dialogues between the author and channelled Underworld deities challenge wider discourses concerning the interrelationships between sociocultural and spiritual worlds, promoting the de-stigmatisation of spirit possession and non-physical phenomena in the academic study of mystical and religious traditions.
Chapter 4 begins by contextualising Underworld deity worship within the broader context of vernacular religion in the Chinese diaspora, and then presents a compendium of Tua Ya Pek and Di Ya Pek’s contrasting mythologies. The ethnographic narrative begins with an ‘oil wok’ ritual to prepare medicines for the elderly in Jurong, Singapore, and introduces the Underworld tradition’s material and ritual cultures, emic perceptions of Hell, and presents a detailed description of a tang-ki entering a state of trance possession. The analysis focuses on alcohol consumption and gambling as self-perpetuating mechanisms and, contrasting ethical codes, draws comparisons with Taiwan’s ghost temples which became popularised during a similar time period.
This chapter argues that the dead body can continue to work for the wartime
nation, but that it also has the power to extraordinarily disruptive. In the
‘people’s war’, this meant the bodies of ‘ordinary’ citizens, both military
and civilian. While the army and navy were able to adapt pre-existing
traditions of burial to manage and honour the bodies of combatants killed in
action, there were no such traditions in place for the burial of civilians
killed by aerial warfare, or for the many thousands of air crew who died in
bombing raids over mainland Europe. Beginning with a survey of debates about
the amount of compensation that should be paid to the relatives of the dead,
the chapter considers, firstly, the management of the military dead,
including postwar attempts to identify the dead of the RAF, and secondly,
the management of the civilian dead, looking at the collective burial of
those killed in Coventry, Belfast and Clydebank.
The aim of this chapter is to consider the role that sound plays in the construction of the Gothic and horror genres, in particular through the soundscape of the werewolf film. Whilst there is a growing body of work on music in relation to horror and the Gothic, sound still remains a too-often overlooked area of film aesthetics. I therefore focus my discussion on the sound effects of animality and wildness within these films, particularly the snarls, growls and howls of the wolf and the sound of bodily transformation, alongside the musical scores that accompany the werewolf. In particular, a close analysis of Universal’s first werewolf film, Werewolf of London (1935), and John Landis’s re-imagining of the werewolf in An American Werewolf in London (1981) will examine how the werewolf draws upon a tension embedded within the sound of the wolf that causes it to embody both horror and melancholy while also blurring the lines between animal and human. This duality, from the werewolf’s earliest appearance through to its modern incarnations, complicates the audience’s relationship to horror and the monster within the genre, thus highlighting kinship rather than difference between classic and modern approaches to cinematic horror.
The conclusion argues death is central to war. Not only for individuals, who
have to find ways to cope with the threat of death and the loss of loved
ones, but for nation states, that have to manage the dead, and the grief of
the bereaved, in order to ensure that these most disruptive of emotions and
experiences don’t undermine wartime morale, but also in order that they be
put to work for the national war effort.
The British people, faced with the prospect of a second, devastating ‘total’
war for the second time in just over twenty years, drew on a wide range of
beliefs, rituals and superstitions as they attempted to cope with the
demands of this new conflict. This chapter surveys religious practice and
religious belief during the war years, including the widespread interest in
spiritualism and the possibilities of continued contact with the dead. It
goes on to look at other rituals and everyday beliefs, such as astrology,
superstition and the development of particular rituals by individuals and by
groups. It concludes with an examination of beliefs about death, drawing on
material collected by Mass Observation during the war years.
The ‘cellarage scene’, which follows Hamlet’s interview with the Ghost,
stages the latter in a very ambiguous and disconcerting way. This chapter
turns to more popular, medieval, intertextual antecedents of Hamlet’s
ghostly figure, arguing that this sequence looks back towards medieval stage
traditions that survived into the late-sixteenth century, not only because
the couple formed by the subterranean Ghost and Hamlet is reminiscent of
that of the Devil and the Vice in morality plays, but also because of other,
more specific elements like the plurality of the oath, Hamlet’s
disrespectful tone and the nicknames given by Hamlet to the Ghost. The whole
sequence may be seen both as a living tableau on the stage and as comic
relief, part of Hamlet’s wider propensity for puns.
Double Ariel in the Royal Shakespeare Company’s The Tempest
Anchuli Felicia King
Recent puppet theory engages with how this ancient form exists in dialogue
with contemporary digital technologies. In 2017, the Royal Shakespeare
Company mounted an ambitious production of The Tempest in which Mark
Quarterly’s performance as Ariel was rendered alongside a digital puppet
through the use of live motion capture technology. This chapter examines how
the hardware and software used by the RSC and Intel to render Quarterly’s
‘Double Ariel’ engages with The Tempest’s themes of liminality, and
specifically Ariel’s liminal textual status as a supernatural entity. By
deconstructing the technical systems used to render Ariel’s avatar in this
production, the chapter also explores processes of iterative
‘technodramaturgy’ – the interplay between traditional dramaturgies and the
innate, often concealed dramaturgies of technical systems themselves
(software, hardware or mechanical). In the RSC Tempest, this
technodramaturgy heightened the wonder and spectacle of Shakespeare’s
sprite, leading to theatrical discoveries around rendering the supernatural
through digital puppetry.
This chapter examines how neoliberalism engineers its own unique rendition of
the nationalist crisis through recourse to discourses of meritocratic
competition, the entrepreneurial self and individual will, alongside its
exaltation of a ‘points-system’ approach to the ills of immigration. A
traditional concern of the neoliberal right posits that a market-society
ideal is hampered by cultures of welfare dependency and the absence of
individual responsibility. This neoliberal position individualises outcomes
of success and failure, muting in turn issues of structure and access. But,
again, important questions arise regarding the imperative of this neoliberal
frame to also racialise conceptions of failure, dependency and national
crisis. This is a neoliberal denigration of the racialised outsider that
operates through the categories of blackness, the Muslim and the pervasive
notion of the inadequate and undesirable migrant. As regards the
pathologisation of immigration, particular emphasis will be placed on the
unique shaming of the Roma that has recently found a place in British
commentary and visual culture.